The Rival Crusoes Part 3

He paused, and looked earnestly at Lord Robert. The moon shone brightly on his face; the flush of resentment had faded from it; and he looked so ill, and there was such an expression of hopeless dejection in his eyes, that Philip was greatly touched; and he even thought of apologizing to him for what he had lately said, and of entreating him to return with him to the Valley of Limes. While he yet hesitated, Lord Robert looked up, and waved his hand impatiently for him to be gone: and Philip, finding that the conquest of his own pride was too great an effort to be made at that time, retired to his home, self-condemned and unhappy.

Lord Robert continued sitting on the grave, in a listless att.i.tude, leaning his head on his hand, almost unconscious that he was alone. The faintness and languor which had been for some time stealing on him, seemed so wholly overpowering, as even to take away the inclination of retorting Philip's last innuendo; but now, though the words still rang upon his ear, and he fully understood their meaning to comprise reproach, insult, and threat, either of which was sufficient to put his proud spirit in a flame, yet he was conscious of a growing confusion in his own mind, which seemed to prevent his forming a suitable reply; and, for the first time in his life, he found himself unwilling to continue the war of words. He felt an impatient desire of quiet; and, forgetful that Philip would most likely pay no attention to his mandate, he motioned for him to retire, with no little of his habitual air of superiority. Philip, however, _did_ obey in this instance. Lord Robert, after some minutes, raised his aching head from his hand, and, looking round to see if he were gone, uttered an expression of satisfaction at finding himself alone.

Lord Robert's naturally fine const.i.tution had been greatly impaired since his residence in the island, by the pain of mind he had suffered from the loss of his uncle and friends, the remorse he felt for his numerous errors, joined to his discontent and impatience at being placed in a situation so uncongenial to all his former habits. Besides, he suffered from the hardships which he was forced to endure: sleeping on the flinty rock, or pa.s.sing the night on the turf under the lime-tree--a most unhealthy practice--for the dews were very heavy, and, in common to all hot countries, very noxious to those who were exposed to their influence.

He had lost his hat when the boat was overset; and, trivial as this loss may appear to the natives of a temperate climate, it was attended with very painful consequences to Lord Robert, on whose head the rays of the sun fell with unmitigated violence, and occasioned him the most acute headache whenever he was exposed to the noon-day heat. After his retreat from the Valley of Limes, he had for many hours paced the beach in a tumult of rage, with the perpendicular rays of a tropical sun darting on his uncovered head. The night he had pa.s.sed without sleep; and, early in the morning, he found the remains of the unfortunate seamen. He was ill and feverish; and it was only by a strong effort that he so far overcame his painful languor as to attempt the necessary but mournful task of giving them burial.

Notwithstanding the heat of the day, and the toilsome task he was engaged in, he experienced repeated fits of shivering; the burning rays of the sun pouring on his head, though they occasioned the most acute pain, failed to impart warmth to his frame. This was accompanied with so strong a disinclination to move, that he several times paused in the course of digging the first grave; and, yielding to the sickly la.s.situde which oppressed him, he retired to his cave; but that commanding a full view of the poor seamen, the dreadful sight roused him from his inactivity, and again he proceeded in his mournful work. He had scarcely completed digging one grave with great toil and pain, and was wondering how it would be possible for him, ill as he was, to go through the whole business of interment, when Philip appeared and afforded his powerful aid. This was too valuable to be rejected; and he felt grateful for the silent manner in which he tendered his a.s.sistance and worked by his side; and he was about to thank him for his services, when, on raising his head for that purpose, he caught the offensive look which has already been mentioned. Lord Robert, lost in his own sad thoughts, did not perceive the _reason_ of this. Had he, indeed, recognised the features of the boatswain in the person they were burying, perhaps the same idea might have occurred to him. But, after having interred his friend, he had sedulously averted his eyes from the faces of the dead.

Ignorant, therefore, of Philip's motives for renewed indignation, he returned his hostile glance, and the second contention ensued.

The rest of the night Lord Robert pa.s.sed in a sort of stupor, seated on the boatswain's grave; from which he felt unable to rise through extreme exhaustion. The first rays of the sun drove him for shelter to the cave.

His thirst was excessive; and he had no means of allaying it, unless he proceeded either to the Valley of Limes or the spring of water. The remembrance of Philip induced him to prefer the latter; and thither, with some difficulty, he crept rather than walked. Having drank profusely, he filled a large sh.e.l.l for a supply in the cave; for he thought it probable he should never be able to perform another journey to the stream; and slowly and faintly returned to his comfortless dwelling in the rock. The chills of the preceding day had terminated in the burning heat of raging fever; and as he retraced his melancholy steps through the sand, which reflected the intolerable rays of the sun to his eyes, and surveyed the barren rocks and frightful basalts of which the island was composed, he with a bitter sigh recalled the verdure of his father's park, and the shades of his native groves which bounded that beautiful domain.

"But these," said Lord Robert, "I shall never see again: I shall perish on this arid, frightful spot, without a living creature near who cares for me, except my poor Neptune!--And you, my tender mother, who are so benevolently solicitous to provide comforts for the sick poor, what would be your feelings, could you see your unhappy son stretched on this burning flint!" continued he, as entering the rocky chamber, he sank exhausted on the floor. He thought his death was near; yet he felt far from being in a proper frame of mind to die. Like too many of the young and thoughtless, if he were not profane, he was careless in matters of religion; in this awful moment, a thousand instances of neglect and offence against his Creator occurred to his mind; and he felt that he would have given worlds, had he possessed them, for a few hours of the time he had so often abused.

He recollected, too, with bitter regret, his pride, imperiousness, and implacability of disposition; of this, his conduct to young Harley was a frightful instance; he vainly wished he could have recalled the _past_, but that was not in his power; and he felt it very doubtful, if for him a _future_ in this world would be granted. The present was all he could call his own; and it behoved him to make the best use he could of the precious moments that were yet allowed him to make his peace with G.o.d.

But, alas! the confusion incidental to fever had already attacked his brain; and, though he felt the necessity of penitence and prayer, it was no longer in his power to collect his wandering thoughts, so as to raise a single pet.i.tion to the Throne of Mercy. He was sensible that he was on the brink of eternity; yet the minutes pa.s.sed rapidly away, leaving his mind in a state between reason and delirium, yet conscious of his danger, and the importance of that time which was ebbing from him for ever.

His bodily sufferings, too, were dreadful. Burning with fever, he had no means of quenching his thirst--he had long since drained the last drop from the sh.e.l.l, and could not replenish it; for the next morning saw him raving in delirium, or sunk in long and death-like fits of stupor, from which his faithful Neptune strove in vain to arouse him by his caresses.

Philip, in the mean time, had returned to his comfortable hut in the Valley of Limes, and laid himself down to rest; but the image of Lord Robert, pale and languid as he had seen him seated on the boatswain's grave after their last altercation, pursued him when awake, and haunted his slumbers when he closed his eyes in sleep. In the morning, Philip sedulously pursued his useful employments, to divert these painful thoughts. He had discovered on the other side of the island some gra.s.s, the only natural production of the place, growing in long, dry, silky tufts out of the clefts of the rocks. He had cut several bundles of this gra.s.s, and braided it into a soft, thick mat; this mat he had fixed on a frame-work which he had made, and formed it into a most comfortable couch, rolling one end of the mat over for a pillow. He was so completely occupied and pleased with this employment, that he did not think of Lord Robert, till, on stretching his limbs upon this excellent bed, he remembered how differently his unfortunate enemy would sleep that night. He recollected that he had seen nothing of him in the Valley of Limes that day; and when he recalled the reproaches and threats he had used the day before, and reflected on Lord Robert's high spirit, he thought it probable that he would endure every suffering, rather than improve his condition by procuring anything from that spot. Of Neptune, Philip had seen nothing since the preceding day, when he had once visited the valley, and begged for a share of his dinner; for Lord Robert had peevishly chidden the dog for his importunities; indeed, he had nothing to give him, being too ill to go in search of food. Philip, who was very fond of Neptune, and had been accustomed to caress him when Lord Robert was out of sight, had fed him, and expected to see him again, but he did not come; and Philip thought it likely that Lord Robert was very ill; and he again bitterly regretted having used such expressions as had driven him from the valley.

The next day, Philip again visited the beach, where he had never been before in the meridian heat of the day, and when he experienced the blinding effects of the sunbeams, which soon occasioned him to feel, though in a lesser degree, one of those headaches that had continually tortured his more delicate rival, he wondered where Lord Robert could find shelter from the intense heat. Actuated by more humane motives than mere curiosity, he continued to pace the beach, determining not to return till he had seen Lord Robert. For some time he pursued his solitary walk, without discovering the object of his research. The sight of the seamen's graves redoubled his pain of mind. When he remembered the hopeless dejection visible in Lord Robert's face, so different from his usual animated expression of countenance, and combined it with the illness so apparent in his whole person, the thought crossed his mind, that he might have expired without a human creature near him. Philip shuddered as this dreadful idea presented itself. He was busy with self-accusing thoughts, when he paused before Lord Robert's cave, wishing, yet unwilling, to enter, when Neptune sprang from the interior part of it, and bounding round him, looked up wistfully in his face, and returned, as if to invite him to follow. This Philip could not prevail on himself to do. After waiting a few minutes, Neptune came again; and, laying hold of his jacket with his teeth, endeavoured to draw him into the cave--looking at him in such an imploring manner, that Philip could no longer resist his entreaties, not withstanding the reluctance he felt at intruding himself into Lord Robert's presence.

On entering the cave he beheld the unfortunate young n.o.bleman stretched on the flinty floor in a stupor, so nearly resembling death, that Philip started back in horror; and so much had the violence of the disorder changed the appearance of his once beautiful countenance, that his dearest friends would scarcely have recognised his convulsed and livid features. On a second glance, Philip discovered that he still breathed, but was unconscious of his approach. His heavy eyes, half closed and fixed, had lost their expression of spirit and intelligence; his lips appeared parched and burning; and his light brown ringlets hung in disordered profusion, tangled and neglected, over his forehead.

At this heart-rending sight, Philip, forgetful of the enmity that had subsisted between him and the unhappy sufferer, turned away, and wept bitterly. It was with feelings of the most bitter compunction he recalled the altercation that had pa.s.sed over the boatswain's grave--particularly when he experienced the stifling closeness of the cave, where he felt a difficulty in respiring; and reflected, that his menaces had had the effect of driving Lord Robert from the only temperate spot on the island.

Philip could form some idea of his Lordship's sufferings, from the recollection of an autumnal fever which had attacked him in his childhood, and nearly brought him to the brink of the grave; he remembered how much he had suffered from thirst, and the relief he had felt from some ices which the Marchioness, Lord Robert's mother, had brought him in her carriage. That n.o.ble lady had supplied him with the most delicate fruits from the hothouse; and his mother believed that these ices and fruits, which he took with so much avidity, had saved his life.

"And yet," said Philip, "wretch that I am! I see her darling son, through the criminal indulgence of my resentful feelings towards him, reduced to a state so deplorable, that, if his fond mother could behold him, the sight would kill her."

Here Philip was interrupted by Lord Robert's trying to articulate something; but so very faint was the attempt, that it was not till he had knelt down by his side, and raised his head on his arm, that he could catch his imperfect accents, or distinguish what he intended to express. Alas! it was but one word--"_Water!_" and that repeated incessantly, in tones of agony, which Philip, some years after that melancholy period, declared that night and day he strove in vain to forget: and at that moment, when he beheld the parched and blackening lips from which those sounds proceeded, they pierced his heart with an anguish no tongue can describe. Fortunately he had a lime in his pocket, with the juice of which he moistened the sufferer's mouth. Some minutes elapsed before this appeared to have the least effect; but at length his Lordship became conscious of the relief, and swallowed with avidity the cooling fluid; and, opening his languid eyes, he turned them on Philip with an expression of grat.i.tude which overpaid him for his exertions. It was evident, however, that he took him for some other person; for, extending his arms towards him, he called him "Augustus! his beloved brother!" and besought him in the most pathetic manner, "to remove him from that horrid place, and to let him have a better bed than the hard one on which he lay, which he a.s.sured him had sadly bruised his body."

"Alas! poor sufferer!" said Philip, "if you knew to whom you were addressing these tender names and moving pet.i.tions for a.s.sistance, your proud spirit would make you reject my aid with scorn, and you would perish rather than accept it."

"However," continued he, "though I fear my help comes too late, yet you shall at least die in a more comfortable place than this dreary cave."

So saying, with some exertion of his strength, he raised the sufferer, who had again relapsed into a state of insensibility, from the ground; and, taking him in his arms, he proceeded to carry him to the Valley of Limes.

The touch of his dry and burning hand gave a sensation of pain to Philip, when it came in contact with his own, and his head dropped in powerless languor on his shoulder. Philip rested by the spring of water, and bathed Lord Robert's face and hands in the cool element: this seemed to revive him a little, and he drank eagerly from a sh.e.l.l of water which Philip held to his burning lips. Had it not been for this refreshment, the sufferer must have expired from thirst and exhaustion before they arrived at the valley. As it was, he appeared to endure so much pain from his exposure to the heat of the sun, that Philip uttered an expression of thankfulness when he reached the shelter of the hut, and laid his helpless burden on the couch of matting within it. But Lord Robert had swooned from weakness and fatigue, and lay for many hours without motion or sensation.

Philip now busied himself in procuring a large supply both of water and limes; and, mixing the juice of the limes in water, continually bathed the sufferer's hands and temples with this refreshing liquid, watching anxiously for returning life. The next day Lord Robert opened his eyes, and expressed his surprise and pleasure at finding his condition so much improved. But his reason was lost in delirium; he talked incessantly; and, addressing Philip by the name of his brother, bestowed on him the most endearing expressions of affection and described to him the particulars of his illness, and all his dreadful privations, in a manner pathetically minute.

Philip, deeply interested, and forgetting that he spoke under the influence of delirium, anxiously exclaimed, "Why did you not return to the Valley of Limes?"--"Because," replied his Lordship, wholly unconscious to whom he spoke, "I was ill and alone, and totally unable to cope with that insolent Harley, who menaced me with his superior strength."

Philip started at hearing his name so mentioned; and Lord Robert continued at intervals to speak on this subject, sometimes pa.s.sionately blaming himself; and at other times, with all the inconsistency of delirium, bitterly complaining of Philip.

Philip was greatly surprised and agitated, when, after much unconnected wandering, Lord Robert said: "You, Augustus, always blamed me about that Philip Harley, and said you knew him to be an estimable youth, and that he had been hardly used through a prejudice I had against him; but what would you have thought, Augustus, had you seen him clench his hand and threaten your unhappy brother with personal ill-treatment, when he was too ill to defend himself from his violence?"

Philip blushed deeply when he heard this; for he remembered using this gesture in the vehemence of his last wrathful address to Lord Robert; and now that he found how ill he had been at that time, he felt doubly ashamed of having suffered himself to be so transported by pa.s.sion.

From these self-reproaches he was again roused by Lord Robert's speaking; but he had wandered to a different subject, and evidently imagined himself at his own home, for he demanded "ices, peaches, and strawberries," in a tone of feverish impatience; and Philip was at a loss how to satisfy these cravings; but when at last Lord Robert mentioned "grapes," Philip remembered those that were ripening on the roof of the hut, and hastened to see if any were fit to eat; though his patient, in a tone of displeasure, called him to return and send a servant to execute his orders, for he did not choose to be left alone.

This was, however, unavoidable; and in a moment he returned with a rich cl.u.s.ter, perfectly ripe. Lord Robert eagerly seized them, with an exclamation of joy; but he was reduced to such a state of weakness, that he was unable to convey them to his mouth; and resigning the cl.u.s.ter to Philip, begged him to feed him. Philip obeyed, and attended to all his whims with the greatest patience. At length, exhausted by the volubility of delirium, he sank again into a death-like stupor, in which he lay, without sense or motion, the whole of the night, and till the next day was far advanced.

Philip, who had continued to bathe his hands and face at intervals, perceived by the painful motion of his lips that he wanted something to drink. Philip raised his head, and supported it on his bosom, while he held to his lips a sh.e.l.l full of the juice of limes and grapes. Lord Robert drank this delicious beverage eagerly; then opening his eyes, which Philip thought would never again have unclosed, he looked up in his face, as if to thank him for the relief; and Philip saw by the expression of wonder and astonishment in those eyes, so lately fixed and rayless, that he knew him, and was no longer under the influence of delirium. A deep crimson mounted to his pallid cheek, as he said--"Harley, I don't deserve this kindness at _your_ hands:" and with a deep sigh he again relapsed into insensibility. The sound of his voice, and the manner in which he p.r.o.nounced this short sentence, thrilled to Philip's heart; and he hung over him with a tender interest, watching the progress of his disorder with the most intense anxiety.

Philip had been little accustomed to witness illness: he had scarcely ever watched by a sick-bed, with the exception of the illness of his sister, who had died; but death had laid so gentle a hand on her, that her decease rather resembled the withering of a flower than the pa.s.sage of a mortal to the grave: far different from the terrific advances of a raging tropical fever, which brought Lord Robert, through stages of exquisite suffering, nearly to the eve of dissolution.

The sight of these sufferings had extinguished the last spark of animosity in Philip's bosom; and it was with feelings nearly allied to those with which he contemplated the death-bed of that beloved sister, that he awaited the termination of Lord Robert's disorder. That it would be fatal he doubted not, for he watched in vain for a second interval of reason; but day after day pa.s.sed, without the slightest intermission of suffering; but the fever seemed rather to increase in violence, and his Lordship's wanderings from reason a.s.sumed a more gloomy character, in which the most unbounded expressions of self-reproach had a princ.i.p.al share. No longer petulant and impatient, he appeared sunk in the deepest despondency; and this turn in the disease alarmed Philip more than his most extravagant fits of raving. It was truly awful to see a fellow-creature, and, alas! a very erring one, on the brink of eternity, without a ray of reason being granted him to prepare to meet his great account. It then occurred to Philip, that many of the faults of which the unhappy sufferer accused himself, had been occasioned by his own pertinacity in throwing himself in his way, and provoking him to violent conduct; by that means setting his fiery temper in a blaze, and causing his evil pa.s.sions to be ever uppermost, till they prompted him to commit those injuries for which he now suffered the most bitter remorse.

"Had I avoided him half as carefully as I sought him," exclaimed Philip, "he would soon have forgotten an individual so much beneath his own rank. I am accountable for many of his errors. True, he abused his power on board the Diomede; but how have I behaved since our residence on this island?"

Philip pursued these self-accusing reflections as he was kneeling by Lord Robert's side, and fanning him with the wing of a sea-fowl, which Neptune had brought him the day before. The weather had been intensely hot, and attended with thunder and lightning; but as the day declined, some heavy rain descended, which had the effect of cooling the burning earth. This salutary change produced an alteration in Lord Robert, who opening his eyes, gazed round him in indescribable astonishment. At last he said, "Where am I? How came I here?"

"Be composed, my Lord," said Philip, much agitated; for he had long dreaded the moment when Lord Robert would ask this question, and he had meditated to address such words to him as would soothe his proud feelings; but he found that he could not speak; he only regarded his Lordship with a troubled countenance, dropping the feathers with which, till now, he had continued to fan him.

"Harley," said Lord Robert, the flush of fever fading to a deadly paleness as he spoke, "I now comprehend my situation; cease to oppress me with this unmerited kindness!" Then speaking in a less collected manner: "No! it must not be! I have injured you too deeply! Go, leave the oppressor to die alone; I saw _you_ suffering, and did not pity you; and it is not fit for the merciless to receive mercy!"

He turned away his face, and covered it with his emaciated hands; but Philip knew, by the convulsive heaving of his bosom, that he was weeping. Philip, from a feeling of delicacy, withdrew to a little distance, to avoid the intrusive appearance of watching Lord Robert's emotions; and he feared to increase his agitation, or offend his proud spirit, by even offering a word of comfort. Yet his caution was unnecessary, for the tears Lord Robert shed were not those of humbled pride, but they were those of a broken and contrite spirit; they were such tears as would occasion joy in Heaven, for they were those of true penitence; and Lord Robert was not ashamed of indulging in them, neither did he seek to conceal their traces from Philip, when he turned his eyes towards him, and motioned him to approach.

"Harley," said he, "can you forgive me?"

"Ah, my Lord," said Philip, "I have to the full as much reason to ask your forgiveness. We have both erred, from the indulgence of an implacable temper; and if you repent of your offences as much as I have done of my trespa.s.ses against you, we may both be, in future, more acceptable in the eyes of our Heavenly Father, to whom 'hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness,' are most offensive."

"Harley," said his Lordship, "you are too generous! How could I so cruelly persecute one capable of such n.o.ble conduct!"

"Cease to accuse yourself, my Lord; you are too ill to continue this agitating conversation," said Philip, observing Lord Robert look very pale.

"No," returned Lord Robert; "I feel my thoughts begin to grow confused!

This may be the last interval of reason vouchsafed me; and I would willingly make use of it to a.s.sure you that I die at peace with you, and blessing you; and may your last hours be sweetened by the remembrance of your generous conduct to your enemy! When I am no more, save a lock of my hair, and give it to my mother when you return to England, which you will soon have an opportunity of doing. Tell her, if I wished to live, it was to see her again, and to confess to my father that I had been guilty of prejudicing him against you, Harley, by misrepresenting the reason of our first quarrel, which was the cause of your being pressed.

Tell me, sincerely, can you forgive me for that, Harley?"

"I can--I do!" replied Philip, approaching close to the couch; "and, in proof that your Lordship exchanges forgiveness with me, give me your hand." Lord Robert threw himself into his arms, and Philip felt his tears wet his bosom. Yet at that moment each felt happier than he had done for months before. But Philip became painfully anxious for the invalid, the violence of whose emotions brought on a fresh access of fever. He began again to talk wildly, and Philip strove in vain to repress his ravings, till at length he sank into a death-like stupor, scarcely giving any symptom of animation.

Philip now entertained the greatest apprehensions for his Lordship's life, and was himself surprised at the pain he felt at the idea of losing him. He had evinced such full and n.o.ble contrition for his errors, that Philip, forgetting all his injuries, wondered how he had ever borne a hatred so bitter against him. That hatred had, indeed, changed gradually into an affection so warm, that he was ready to impute to his own faulty temper the blame of all that had pa.s.sed. "And, oh!"

said he, as he hung over the couch where Lord Robert lay, apparently unconscious of his presence, "who could think that I, who now watch so anxiously every change of his pallid countenance, could once have taken delight in provoking him to fight with me, and then took a savage pleasure in aiming my blows at his face, and disfiguring his fine features with the marks of my violence? Ruffian that I was!"

Here a gentle pressure from the hand he held in his, convinced him that Lord Robert was sensible, and had heard this soliloquy. Philip started and coloured at this idea; and Lord Robert said in a faint voice:--

"If you, my dear Harley, so severely accuse yourself for what was a just retaliation for my unfeeling arrogance, what must be my feelings of self-condemnation for my conduct on board the Diomede, on which I cannot think without agony?"

"Never think of it again, my Lord," said Philip, to whom the appellation of "dear Harley" had given a sensation of the greatest pleasure; "let me beg you never again to agitate yourself by a painful remembrance of what is past: I would endure much to see you well and happy."

After some time, Philip succeeded in soothing his patient into some degree of composure; and at length he had the satisfaction of seeing him sink into a profound sleep. Then, being worn out with anxious watching and fatigue, he threw himself on the ground, and enjoyed a calm and refreshing slumber. When he awoke, it was about sunrise; and seeing Lord Robert still asleep, he went out to get a supply of fruit and turtle. On his return, he found Lord Robert awake and evidently better; for he was returning the caresses of Neptune, who certainly had deserved his fondness, for he had been almost as watchful and abstinent, and as attentive to his master's sufferings, as Philip himself. The patient extended his hand towards Philip as he entered, who hastened to him and inquired tenderly, "how long he had been awake, and how he found himself?"

"Long enough to miss you, and well enough to thank you for your unwearied kindness," said Lord Robert, with a melancholy smile. Philip respectfully took the hand that was extended towards him; and, after expressing his pleasure at seeing him so much recovered, began to busy himself in procuring him all the comforts in his power. Lord Robert, for the first time since his illness, was able to raise himself to wash his hands and face in some water which Philip brought him in a turtle-sh.e.l.l.

After this grateful refreshment, he attempted with his pocket-comb to disentangle his ruffled and matted hair; but his hands trembled so much from weakness, that he sank exhausted on the couch. Philip took the comb from his hands, and with great care and patience succeeded in smoothing and reducing to their natural order these refractory ringlets. Lord Robert repeatedly bade him give himself no farther trouble, but take his knife and cut them off as well as he could. But Philip did not like to spoil the fine hair which Lord Robert had once been proud of; and had the Marchioness herself presided at this operation, it could not have been more tenderly performed than by the hands of this young sailor; and his patient appeared to derive great benefit from this attention to his personal comforts, though reduced to a state of infantine weakness.

Lord Robert now rapidly improved in health, and was soon enabled, with the a.s.sistance of Philip's arm, to walk in the Valley of Limes in the cool of the morning. Notwithstanding this improvement, however, Philip continued to attend on him with the most a.s.siduous care; and even when he was in a state of convalescence, still performed for him all those little offices which he knew Lord Robert had been accustomed to have done for him by his attendants, though his Lordship did not wish to consider himself ent.i.tled to such services in his present situation.